


I Want You to Want Me

by MartiniCumberbatch



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - High School, F/M, M/M, Shakespeare, Teenlock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-21
Updated: 2013-09-24
Packaged: 2017-12-24 05:08:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 15,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/935748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MartiniCumberbatch/pseuds/MartiniCumberbatch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Irene Adler was the prettiest girl in school. When new student Greg want's to date her, he has to find someone to date her cousin, Sherlock, first. But who would want to date the school freak? </p><p> </p><p>Sherlock/10 Things I Hate About You AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so I had posted this a while ago but had lost my motivation for it. Luckily I recently had a lot of time on my hands and hand wrote some new chapters. I'll be posting two chapters about every day. Hope every one enjoys!
> 
> The quotes at the beginning of each chapter are from Shakespeare's The Taming of the Shrew, which if you didn't know, the movie 10 Things I Hate About You is based on. 
> 
>  
> 
> Disclaimer: I own nothing.

  
_Tranio, I saw her coral lips to move,_   
_And with her breath she did perfume the air;_   
_Sacred and sweet was all I saw in her. - Lucentio; Act I, Scene I_   


 

 

Greg Lestrade sat tapping his fingers on his thigh, waiting to be called into the counselor’s office. The office door was open and he could see her just typing at her desk not doing anything important. He wondered why he was kept waiting so long. His family just moved to town and it was his first day at Doyle Academy. He was thinking of all the friends he had left back home and the one’s he was eager to start making when the secretary cleared her throat and pulled him out of his thoughts.

“Mrs. Hudson will see you now.”

He got up quickly, hitting his calf on the small table in front of him. “Ouch, shit! Sorry. Thank you,” he muttered rubbing his leg. He picked up his bag and walked into the office, sitting on one of the unoccupied chairs in front of the desk. Mrs. Hudson was still typing furiously at her computer when he sat down. He could hear her muttering the words _throbbing_ and _pulsing_ under her breath, so he cleared his throat to make his presence know.

“Oh, yes hello dear.” She closed her laptop, a bright blush spread across her cheeks. “Sorry to keep you waiting, you must be Greg Lestrade, our new student. Now here is your course schedule and I’ve set up a student guide to show you around. Any questions?”

“Well actually-”

“Wonderful! Now scoot. I’ve got other students to see and a novel to finish. Off you go.” Greg raised slowly from the chair and made his way out of the office wondering what the hell that was about. Some guidance counselor, he thought. On his way out he bumped into a short, stocky blond boy with a split lip.

“Oh, sorry mate! I didn’t see you…” His sentence died in throat as the blond glared up at him, his eyes seeming to say _get out of my way or else_. Eyes still locked, it sent a shiver down Greg’s spine. “Mr Watson?” they heard Mrs Hudson call. The short boy sent one final glare at Greg and made his way to the office, shutting the door behind him.

_So Watson was his name_ , Greg thought. He made a mental note to stay away from him.

* * *

 

“My my, Mr Watson,” Mrs Hudson tisked, “in my office already and it’s barely eleven thirty.”

“Well you know how I just love our meetings ma’am” he said with a wink and grabbed a few candies from the jar on her desk. “Can’t get enough of them.”

“Be that as it may, you cannot continue this vigilante persona you’ve seem to take on.” Mrs Hudson sighed as she took in his ruffled appearance. “The well being of our less favorable students is not your responsibility and if you keep jumping in these fights I’m going to have to take action. I also hear you haven‘t been attending class regularly. ”

“I just -” She held up a hand so she could continue talking.

“I am aware of the unfortunate situation you had endured at your school last year so I have been lenient thus far. If I see you in this office again I am going to have to take disciplinary action.” He sagged in his chair as she spoke, obviously uncomfortable from the conversation. Mrs Hudson knew John was really a sweet boy. Just very troubled. He was one of the few students she actually cared for. The rest were all such little piss ants. “I suggest you find a new outlet for your daredevil tendencies. Maybe a new hobby?”

“I’ll try ma’am.”

“There’s a good lad. Now, why don’t you go clean yourself up and head to class.”

John nodded his head and left the office. He didn’t want to go back to class. It was so boring. The school, the people, all of it. He needed the adrenaline, the rush of something exciting. Jumping in whenever there was a fight gave him that, if only for a short while. He just felt so empty. He couldn’t afford to get suspended though, his father would kill him. _If I could just find something exciting_ John mused, making his way to class.

* * *

Greg was sitting the quad at the start of lunch waiting for his student guide when a small mousy girl with a her hair in a long brown ponytail walked up to him. “Hi, hello I’m Molly. I’m your guide. Mrs Hudson told me to meet you here. You aren’t busy are you? I hope I‘m not bothering.” She spoke quickly as if she might explode if she didn’t get it out all in one breath. She seemed nervous, but polite.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Greg” He smiled at her and she went a furious red. “I did some looking around earlier. Most schools are built about the same. Nothings too hard to find.”

Molly seemed to deflate at Greg’s words. “So I guess you won’t be needing me then.”

“Maybe not as a guide, but a friend sure. Lunch?”

She smiled brightly and started walking towards the cafeteria, Greg in tow. “You know I’m glad they sent you.” Greg mused. “Normally it’s always some A.V. nerd or science geek they get to do these things. So what do you do for fun here?”

“Erm, not much” she giggled nervously. Molly loved science and was president of the science club. But Greg didn’t need to know that now.

They made their way in line grabbing their lunches while Molly told Greg about the type of students and cliques when Greg saw her. “Who’s that?” he gasped stopping Molly mid-sentence.

Molly followed Greg’s line of vision until she saw who he was speaking of. “Oh her.” she said frowning. “Of course it’s her, that’s Irene Adler.”

“She’s gorgeous. Beautiful. I bet she’s smart too,” Greg spoke through a mouthful of tuna salad. To him, Irene was perfect. The way her uniform hugged her body and her dark hair done up in a intricate fashion framing her face. He was in love.

Molly scoffed. “Please that girl is about as sharp as a sack of wet mice. Not that anyone ever cares about brains because all the boys want to date her.”

“Does she have a boyfriend?” Greg asked.

“Well that’s the thing about her. She’s not allowed to date.” Greg raised and eyebrow so Molly continued, pushing her salad around her plate. “She lives with her cousins and the eldest is some crazy government guy. He doesn’t allow them to date. Something about insufficient surveillance if I’m not mistaken.”

“So you’re saying there’s no chance?”

Just then, Irene and her friend with fiery red hair passed their table and they caught a bit of what Irene was saying, “ _see there’s a difference between like and love, because I like my Louboutins but I love my Prada backpack.”_

Giggling Molly said, “Even if there was you’d have to get in line. And there’s Jim. So come to think of it, no chance in hell.”

“Who’s Jim?”

Nodding her head towards the table Irene sat at, Molly answered “the bloke with the dark hair and even darker eyes. A bit of a creep if you ask me, but he’s the most popular guy in school and insanely rich. He’s been trying to get at Irene for a while now to no prevail.”

Greg was frowning and looking a little defeated. Molly wanted to help her new friend. She didn’t have a lot. So she thought of something that might cheer him up. “You know, I did hear that she’s looking for a French tutor. Know anybody?”

Perking up and grinning wildly, Greg answered “no, but I’m a quick learner.”


	2. Chapter 2

  
_Asses are made to bear, and so are you_. -  _Katherina; Act III, Scene I_  


 

Sherlock Holmes sat in English Literature waiting for it to end. He had an experiment at home that needed tending to and this was his least favorite class. Sherlock passed the time while going over the periodic table in his head while Mr Hope droned on about some playwright he cared nothing about.

“Now students,“ Mr Hope started, “we’re going to start reading Shakespeare this week so I want you to keep your minds and your hearts-”

“Oh god,” Sherlock groaned cutting off his sentence.

Mr Hope sighed. He had expected this. Sherlock always had some complaint of his lessons. Today would be no exception. “Problem Mr Holmes? Might I guess you find Shakespeare _dull._ ”

Sherlock sneered. “Well, yes actually. I find his works to be bland and overly romanticized. His ideas of star-crossed lovers and being coerced by emotions are idiotic and perverse. Not to mention his sonnets, which are laughable at best.”

“Mr Hope, can it be mandatory that Sherlock take a xanax _before_ class,” Jim Moriarty snickered from the back of the class.

“James, shut up.” Mr Hope’s patience was wearing thin. “Sherlock, though I understand you need to keep your mouth moving at all times, your opinion is neither desired nor required so please, keep it to yourself. You do the readings and the assignments, or I will fail you, understand?”

Before Sherlock could answer the door to the classroom burst open and John Watson walked in. “Did I miss anything?” he asked a little breathless.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “Just the ramblings of an over the hill teacher boring his students to death by trying to force the nonsensical, soppy writings of a long dead poet on them.”

“Oh good, then nothing important.” And with that Watson was out the door.

“Hey!” Mr Hope tried calling back to him, but lost as the student was out of the class once more. He was turning purple and losing control of the class. “Mr Holmes, get out of my classroom.”

“What?” Sherlock was a little surprised.

“Get out. Go see Mrs Hudson.” Mr Hope was shaking with fury. “You’re disrupting my class. Go!”

Sherlock collected his belongings when Jim shrilled “See you Sherly-cakes!” Sherlock hit him in the head with his book on the way out.

* * *

 

Sherlock really didn’t mind being sent to Mrs Hudson’s office. He actually liked the older woman. So when he walked into her office, it was to a smile on his face.

“Sherlock dear, what did I say to you about outbursts in class? Mr Hope sounded like he might have burst.”

“I’m sorry Mrs Hudson, but that man is an imbecile.”

“Yes dear, you’ve mentioned that before. Now sit down and have some biscuits, you’re far too skinny love.” Mrs Hudson cooed over Sherlock.

He sat down eating the offered snacks when Mrs Hudson started again. “You’ll be happy to know that Ms Carr has divorced her husband and is now dating the girls swim coach after you outed her in front of the whole campus last month.”

“Well, then that week of detention she demanded I have really was unwarranted.” Sherlock sat up straighter in his chair. “I was simply trying to help inform her of why she was unhappy being married to a man.”

Mrs Hudson frowned. She knew Sherlock was only trying to help, but the poor boy had no social skills. He barely had any friends and she wanted to help him. “Sherlock dear, I know you don’t really like to socialize much, but it’s just that most of the other students find you to be…” Mrs Hudson struggled to find a phrase.

“Tempestuous?” Sherlock offered.

“Massive prick is the one I hear most often.”

“Ah,” He had heard that one as well. “Mrs Hudson, I can’t help if practically everybody is an-”

“Idiot dear, yes I know,” Mrs Hudson interrupted. “Now I don’t want you to use the rest of the class time doing nothing. Go to the library or lab and get some work done.”

Sherlock smiled as he got up to leave and she pushed more biscuits in his hand. He really did like Mrs Hudson.

* * *

 

At the end of his first school day, Greg was waiting for Molly so they can go grab a bite and study. When she finally arrived, they were making their way to Greg’s car when they bumped into a tall boy, causing him to drop his books.

The two bent down, “helping” him pick up his books while he just stood there.

“Sorry mate. Didn’t see you-” Greg’s apology went unnoticed. He glanced over to Molly to see her slightly trembling at the boy in front of them. He wondered why she seemed so afraid.

Sherlock groaned, “if you two were to use the eyes in those apparently thick skulls of yours, you would have seen me standing here. Do try to use your brains and pay more attention.”

“S-s-sorry Sherlock,” Molly stuttered. But Sherlock just ignored her, grabbed his books from their hands and stormed to the parking lot.

“Who the bloody hell was that massive prick?” Greg asked, astonished that somebody could be so rude.

“That,” Molly managed to get out when the color returned to her face, “was Sherlock Holmes, school psychopath. He’s Irene Adler’s cousin.”

Greg’s jaw dropped. He couldn’t imagine anyone as seemingly perfect as Irene, being related to him. But there she was, getting into the back of an expensive looking black car with Sherlock on their way home.

* * *

  
That night, Sherlock and Irene had to endure one of Mycroft’s family dinners. With no parents in the house, he insisted the three of them do this for a sense of normality. It never really worked.

“So brother dear, make anybody cry today?” Mycroft asked.

Sherlock pierced a piece of duck on his fork and pushed it around his plate. “Several in fact. You?”

“A few.” Mycroft answered back. “And you Irene? How was your day cousin?”

Irene smoothed the napkin on her lap, thinking of how to start. “Well Mycroft, I was wondering if you might be open for discussion about something.”

“I’m listening” he said sipping his wine.

She bit her lip. “You see, I was hoping you’d change your mind about letting me date.”

Mycroft considered her carefully. “Is there a certain boy you had in mind?”

“Well, no one in particular, but Jim has been-”

Sherlock scoffed. “Please, Jim Moriarty isn’t a boy. He’s a spider. And-”

“Sherlock,” Mycroft interrupted him. “This is Irene’s request, not yours. Your opinion isn’t necessary.”

Mycroft was thinking about what Irene had asked. He hated being the bad guy. But he wasn’t sure it was a good idea. He didn’t want her to resent him as much as Sherlock already did. He needed a way for her not to date, but not have her angry at him as well. He smiled as the idea came to him.

“Very well, Irene you may date.”

“Really?” The girl practically floated out of her seat.

“When Sherlock does.” He finished.

Irene’s deflated. Sherlock smirked. He knew what his brother was doing. Sherlock had no interest in dating. Therefore, Irene would never date.

“But he’s a freak!” Irene stood and was shouting now. “No one wants to date him. That’s not fair!”

“You have my answer.” Mycroft stated calmly. “When Sherlock dates, you can.”

Irene stood there turning red with anger. She was staring at Mycroft as if it would change his mind. When she saw it wouldn’t work, she sent a death glare to Sherlock and then stormed up to her room and slammed the door.

Sherlock glanced at his brother. “Clever” he mused, finally putting the piece of duck in his mouth.

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

_Petruchio: Come, come, you wasp; i' faith, you are too angry._

_Katherina: If i be waspish, best beware my sting._

_\- Act II, Scene I_

Greg was lucky to have Irene actually in his French class so he managed to actually speak to her a few times. He was learning rapidly, so he felt he was ready enough to offer to tutor her. When the bell rang and everyone was packing up he made his offer.

“Hi,” he cleared his throat. “Hi Irene.”

She smiled sweetly at him. “Oh, hi Joe.”

“Um, no. It’s Greg. Greg Lestrade?” _Oh god_. She didn’t even know his name, he thought. This is going to be a disaster.

“Right sorry, Greg.” she seemed to actually feel bad for getting his name wrong. Greg took that as a good thing.

  
“Well, anyway, I know you’re struggling a bit in class and need a tutor. I just thought maybe I could help you out?” He ducked his head when he finished. Surely she was going to laugh at him, right?

“Really? That’s great! An actual French guy as my tutor, that's wonderful!” Irene was ecstatic. If she picked up her grades, maybe Mycroft would let her get a car finally. She was actually tired of being chauffeured around. 

“You know I’ve never actually been to-”

“Meet me in the library, in say half and hour? We can start then.” She gave a quick one arm hug and dashed out of the room.

Greg stood there in shock. He was going to spend time alone with Irene Adler. And she hugged him. She didn’t remember his name, but that wasn’t too important right now.

* * *

 

Half and hour came and went while Greg sat in the library waiting for Irene. She came in almost an hour later, like she had been running.

“Sorry,” she said as she opened her books on the table. “Sally and Anderson were having another ugly breakup in the quad. It was amazing!”

“Oh right, no problem.” He shook his head to clear his nerves. “Um, I thought we could start with the basics. You know like pronunciation?”

“Not the hacking, and gagging and spitting parts, please.”

“Well, you know there are alternatives.”

“Such as?”

“French food. We could eat some together, say Saturday night?”

Irene smiled. “You’re asking me out? That is so sweet Jeff!”

“It’s Greg. Look, I know your cousin doesn’t let you date but I thought maybe if it was for French class that maybe-”

“No, this is perfect actually. Mycroft just changed his rule. I can date when my cousin does.”

“Really? That’s great!” He had a chance. “Listen do you like sailing? Because I know this place that-”

  
“Beaucoup problemo, Jerry! In case you haven’t noticed, my cousin is a particularly hideous breed of loser.”

“Yeah I noticed he’s a little…crass.” Greg was sure there was a better word for him, like arse. “But still, I’m sure there are lots of people who wouldn’t mind going out with such a difficult person. People jump out of airplanes, and ski off cliffs, it would be like extreme dating!”

“You think you can find someone that extreme?" She put her hand over Greg’s. “And you would do that, for me?”

“HELL YES!” He shouted. “I mean, um I could look into it.”

“Great thank you!” She kissed him lightly on the cheek, picked up her books and left the library. They never even studied any French.

* * *

Greg told Molly about finding someone to date Sherlock, and she was eager to help. They didn’t know if Sherlock was even straight, as Molly said no one has seen him go out with anyone before. She had asked his only friend, Victor, but he admitted that he didn’t know either. So they went about asking anybody that thought willing to date the shrew.

They were discussing their options in their shared P.E. class, where they were practicing archery.

“So who did you find?” Molly asked as she was having trouble loading her bow.

“Well, one girl said she never be high enough, and one bloke said not even if they were the last two on earth and there were no sheep. What about you?” Greg hoped she had better luck.

“Two people screamed when I asked them.“ Molly shivered as she remembered this. “I’m sorry Greg but this is going to be hopeless.”

Molly finally shot her arrow, and Greg watched as it barely hit the target. It was then that he spotted John Watson, sitting on the grass with his friend. Their bows on the floor next to them, they looked like they would rather be anywhere else. Then Greg had a thought.

“What about him,” he said pointing at the blond from Mrs Hudson's office.

“Don’t point!” Molly shrieked. “Don’t even look at him!”

“Why not?”

“There are rumors about him.” Molly was whispering. “He transferred here last year, and nobody knows why or where he came from. Some say he set a cop on fire. Others say that he’s killed a guy. He barely talks to anyone and he’s always ditching class with Stamford.”

Just then everyone stated running around yelling and ducking out of the way. “Wasp! There's a wasp!” someone screamed. Students were panicking as they tried to avoid the stinger. 

“Everyone calm down,” said Mr Dimmock, the P.E. teacher. “It’s just an- ow!” The wasp stung him on the ankle. People panicked further as Mr Dimmock hopped up and down on his good leg, cursing wildly. In the commotion, no one noticed John Watson calmly pick up his bow. The whole class froze in stunned silence as he shot his arrow and pierced the wasp right on the bull’s-eye. He tossed the bow to the side and lied back down on the grass as Stamford chuckled next to him.

“That,” Greg said to Molly, “is our man.”


	4. Chapter 4

  
_Here is a gentleman whom by chance I met,_   
_Upon agreement from us to his liking,_   
_Will undertake to woo curst Katherine;_   
_Yea, and to marry her, if her dowry please._   


_\- Hortensio, Act I Scene II_

John was having an extremely bad day. He hadn’t slept at all, taking care of Harry after another one of her drunken stupors the night before. On top of that, his dad had been in a rage all morning. He was lying in the quad with Mike, trying to rest his eyes when the new kid he’s seen a couple of times made his way over to them.

“Um, hello.” Greg was nervous. He’d never spoken to John before and hoped he wouldn’t hit him or something worse. When John didn’t move or respond, he decided it was okay to continue. “My name’s Greg.”

John sighed in annoyance. Why was this day against him. All he wanted was some rest, but he wouldn’t get that would he? John kept his eyes closed, but grabbed his jacket and put it over his face, hoping this Greg would get the hint. He didn’t.

“Um, we have a couple of classes together I think. Gym and Maths?” John merely grunted in response.

He was about to say something else when Stamford flicked his cigarette at him. He glared at Greg and said “Bugger off, mate.”

Greg nodded. “Right, sorry, thanks.” He had never moved faster.

* * *

Irene was at her locker fixing her lipstick when Jim slithered behind her.

“Hey Irene.” He smiled at her sweetly but there was always something off about him she thought.

“Jim, what can I do for you?” she asked.

“Oh, I can think of lots of things.” Jim grinned mischievously. “But for now, how about you come get some coffee with me and the guys.”

If he had asked her that a couple of weeks ago, she would have jumped at the chance. But lately she didn’t feel like spending time with him as much. She wondered why. “Sorry Jim, I can’t. I have my tutoring for French class.”

“Oh, come on. that’s never stopped you before. Let’s go.” He tried to tug her down the hall with him but she refused.

“Sorry, I can’t miss this. I’ll see you later.” She squeezed his hand as a goodbye and walked in the other direction. Jim was right, she never cared about her grades before but for some reason, she was looking forward to tutoring. She liked spending time with Greg.

* * *

It was lunch the next day, when Greg and Molly were discussing their options. Greg had gotten nowhere with John and they were getting desperate.

“How do we get him to date Sherlock? Maybe we can offer him money?” he suggested.

“With what? We don’t have any!” Molly bit her lip in thought. “I’ve got it. What we need is a backer. Someone with money, but someone who’s stupid.” Her face lit up. “I know what we do!”

After discussing her plan with Greg, Molly made her way across the cafeteria, and sat down next to Jim Moriarty. “Hello,” she giggled nervously.

He looked at her with confusion and annoyance on his face. “Are you lost?”

“Oh, um no, actually I just came by to chat.”

“I don’t chat.” Jim said and turned away from Molly.

She grabbed his shoulder to turn him around. “I really just wanted to run an idea by you. If you’re interested?”

“I’m really not.” He made to turn again but she stopped him.

“Just hear me out, please? You want to date Irene, right? But she can’t go out with you because her cousin is some insane head case and no one will go out with him.”

She seemed to have his attention, “does this have a point?”

“Well,” she said with a bit of confidence, “what you need to do is hire someone to go out with Sherlock. Someone with thick skin who doesn’t scare so easily.” She drew his attention to John, who was sitting a few tables away, stabbing his meatloaf with what looked like a scalpel.

“That guy?” Jim asked. “I heard he ate a live duck once.”

“Everything but the beak and the feet,” Molly corrected.

Jim looked her over. “What’s in it for you”

“Well um,” she hadn’t thought he’d ask that. “Nothing really. I just thought I'd help out."

"You just thought you'd help out?" Molly nodded and Jim looked at her increduously. "Right, well I'll think about."

“Great! Okay, um thank you, I guess, bye.” She got up quickly and made her way over to Greg.

“So what now?” he asked her.

“Now,” Molly said. “we wait. While he’s busy thinking he’s calling the shots, you get time with Irene.

Greg smiled. “That is a good plan, actually.”

“Exactly.”

* * *

Jim was running track in his gym class later that day thinking over Molly’s suggestion. He had Sherlock in this class as well. Molly was right. He need someone to get Sherlock’s attention so he can get into Irene’s pants. Seeing John sitting on a bench nearby, he made his way over.

“Hey, how’s it going.” John completely ignored him. “You know, I had some great duck the other night.”

That got John’s attention as he looked at Jim with a confused face. “Do I know you?” he asked annoyed.

“Jim Moriarty. Hi!” Gaining no reaction from John, he continued. “See that guy over there.” Jim pointed over to where Sherlock and his friend Victor were jogging around the track. “The one with the dark curly hair, that’s Sherlock. I want you to go out with him.”

John shared a look with Mike and laughed. “Yeah, sure thing mate, whatever you say.”

“Look,” Jim said. “I can’t go out with his cousin until he starts dating. You see their other cousin is a-”

John interrupted Jim’s rant. “That’s a touching story, really it is. But it’s not my problem.”

“Would you be willing to make it your problem if I were to provide generous compensation?” Jim was really hoping this would sway Watson in his direction. He could tell that he didn’t come from a wealthy family and could probably use the cash.

John couldn’t believe this guy. But he had to ask. “You aren't serious? You‘re going to pay me to take out some bloke.” Jim nodded. “How much?”

“Fifty quid.”

John considered this. He had never met Sherlock personally but he had a few classes with him. He had always thought that Sherlock was attractive, but from what he knew, the guy was an asshole. Nobody liked him. And John liked that. Sherlock didn’t care what people thought of him, and neither did John. Honestly, John would date Sherlock for free, but he didn’t like Jim and didn’t want to be doing him a favor.

“One hundred pounds.” John said.

“What? Absolutely not.” Jim would never spend that much on Sherlock. “Forget it!”

“Then you can forget his cousin.” Jim stared a John. Oh, he was good.

“Deal.” Jim stuck out his hand. “But I want results.”

John stuck out his hand not to shake but to wait. Jim got the hint. He reached into his pocket and handed John over his money. “You better be as good as you think you are.” Jim said, “If so, I’ll make you rich. If not, I’ll turn you into shoes.” With that he turned and left.

Turning to Stamford, John said “wish me luck,” and made his way over to Sherlock.


	5. Chapter 5

  
_No, not a whit; I find you passing gentle._   
_'Twas told me you were rough, and coy, and sullen,_   
_And now I find report a very liar;_   


_\- Petruchio; Act II, Scene I_

John made his way over to where Sherlock and Victor were grabbing their gym bags. He tapped Sherlock on the elbow to grab his attention. “Hi there, handsome.”

Sherlock turned to John with a raised eyebrow. “Can I help you?”

“Yes actually,” John answered. “I seem to have lost my mobile number. Can I have yours?”

Victor was trying not to double over with laughter as his friend stood there, gaping at the blond. “Um, I’ll just leave you two alone, shall I?” He grabbed his bag and walked towards the locker room.

Sherlock just stood there staring at John, with a look of confusion on his face. It was making John nervous. He hadn’t answered him yet. John rubbed his neck and stuck out his hand. “I’m John, by the way. John Watson.”

This seemed to snap Sherlock back to reality. “Yes, I know who you are,” he grumbled. “What do you want?”

John lowered his hand and rolled his eyes. “Do I need a reason to just come by and say hello?”

“Yes.” replied Sherlock sternly. He picked up his bag and walked away from John. What did he want, he wondered. John had never spoke to him before, why now? And why didn’t he seem afraid of him like everyone else. Sherlock’s thoughts were cut from his mind as John ran in front of him.

“Wait.” John said put his hands out to stop Sherlock. “I was wondering if you were busy Friday night?”

Sherlock considered him for a moment. “No.”

“Good.” John smiled. “I’ll pick you up say, eight-thirty?”

“I meant no, as in, no I won’t go out with you.” Sherlock side stepped him walking away for the second time.

John caught up with him again, frowning. “Why not?”

“You’re boring,” Sherlock said as if it was obvious.

“Boring? You don’t even know me.”

“I know you come from a home with an alcoholic sibling, and a military father. I know that you transferred here last year but won’t tell anybody why. Probably because it was something traumatic and probably that it has something to do with your injured shoulder. And I know that you want to be a doctor and join the military, following in your father‘s footsteps. So, like I said, boring.”

Sherlock stared at John, who was staring back, his jaw dropped. “How do you know that?” John finally managed to stutter out.

“I didn’t know, I saw.” Sherlock was a little stunned. Nobody had ever asked how he knew things. They always just called him freak and told him to piss off. “Your haircut and the way you hold yourself says military. So, obviously your father was in the military as boys tend to admire and follow their father’s attitudes. You often come to class smelling faintly of vodka but never seem to be drunk. You do however, always seem to be tired, so you’re up late at night taking care of someone who is drunk. Not your father, but it is someone close, so, a sibling.”

John still stared with his eyes wide, so Sherlock continued. “You always roll your left shoulder when you wake up in class, so you have a shoulder injury. But you I’ve never seen you without sleeves, so you probably have a scar. Traumatic injury then. It seemed to have bothered you more last year when you first arrived, so it was still fresh. Obviously the reason for your transfer. You always skip class except for your Biology and Anatomy classes that I shared with you last year, so your interested in science and medicine, so you want to be a doctor. You come from a poorer home, so you can’t afford university, meaning you’ll have to join the military like your father did to pay for school.”

Sherlock waited for John to scare off like everyone else and finally leave him alone. That didn’t happen.

“That,” John said, “was amazing.”

John watched as Sherlock seemed to soften in front him. “You think so?” he asked John incredulously.

“Of course I was,” John was in awe. “I’d never seen anything like it. That was extraordinary.”

Now it was Sherlock’s turn to stare at John. No one had ever called him extraordinary. He didn’t know what to do, or how to take a compliment. “It was nothing special,” he murmured.

“Well, I disagree.” John smiled and laughed. “So um, Friday night then?”

Sherlock still was curious as to why John had asked him out. Sherlock had never dated anyone before. He had never even been attracted to anyone before. But there was something about John. Why would he want to spend time alone with him? Even Victor never spent any time with him outside of school. Sherlock decided this was probably all some joke.

“No.” Sherlock said firmly. “Leave me alone, I have things do.”

John watched as Sherlock walked away. He didn’t follow him this time. John had thought he looked a bit upset. But Sherlock had been amazing and impressive just now. John knew he had to talk to him again. He just didn‘t know how.

* * *

Greg and Molly sat in the bleachers above the track, watching the exchange between Jim and John, and then Sherlock and John. They could tell it didn’t go exactly as planned.

“We are screwed,” Greg said grimly.

“Oh, come on,” Molly nudged him. “Be more positive!”

“We are _positively_ screwed,” he said more cheerfully.

“Don’t worry we’ll fix this.”

“How?”

“We’ll just help John out,” Molly said smiling.

* * *

Sunday afternoon, John was walking down the road over to his favorite coffee shop. He needed to get away from the house for a little while, and think. Think about Sherlock mostly, and how he could convince him to go on a date. John couldn’t get his pale eyes out of his head ever since Sherlock had stripped him down. He didn’t even mind that Sherlock knew all that about him. He wasn’t a freak like everyone thought, of this John was sure. He was remarkable.

It was then that John glanced across the street and saw Sherlock through the window of a bookshop. Without a second thought, he darted across, dodging cars, getting to the shop just as Sherlock was walking out.

“Hello,” John said casually.

Sherlock glared at him. “Are you following me?”

“What? No,” John didn’t sound at all convincing. “I just saw you from across the street and thought I’d come say hi.”

“Well, you’ve said it. Now go.” Sherlock made to walk away.

John grabbed his arm to stop him. “Wait. Would you like to have a coffee with me?”  
He pointed across the street at the cafe he was on his way to.

“No,” Sherlock replied, not even looking at him.

No,” Sherlock replied, not even looking at him.

John laughed nervously. “Oh, come on,” he said. “You won’t have a coffee with me, but I’m sure you’ve thought about me naked.” _Oh god_ , he cursed himself. Why did he say that? Smooth, very smooth.

Sherlock scoffed. “Please. Am I that transparent? I burn, I pine, I parish.” he answered dryly. Though honestly, he had thought about it. It was all he could think about lately. John’s eyes glistening as Sherlock explained his deduction. John’s smile as he called him amazing. And yes, on occasion the last few nights, John naked. But he didn’t need to know that.

Sherlock pulled out of John’s grip, walking away leaving John behind. A sleek black Bugatti pulled up and parked in front of the shop. Sherlock groaned as Jim stepped out of the car.

Jim eyed the books Sherlock had purchased and smirked. “Hello freak. Buying some new friends, are we?” Jim laughed as Sherlock frowned but ignored John cracking his knuckles.

Instead of responding, Sherlock pulled out his keys and dragged the sharpest one along the side of Jim’s car. John laughed as Jim’s face contorted into rage.

“You asshole! Look what you’ve done!” Sherlock ignored Jim and walked away, hearing John still laughing. “I’ll burn you for this,” he heard Jim yell as he turned the corner.


	6. Chapter 6

  
_Tranio, let's go. One thing more rests, that thyself execute-_   
_To make one among these wooers - Lucentio; Act I Scene I_   


Jim rounded on John the first chance he got come Monday.

“I’m not paying you to watch as that loser violates my car. I’m paying you to get in his pants. And if you don’t get some, I don’t get some.” Jim got as close to John’s face as possible, sneering at him. “So get some.”  
  
John was ready to punch him in his smug face, but didn’t want to give Jim the satisfaction. Still, he was sick of him, and everyone for that matter, insulting Sherlock. John knew what would piss him off.

“I just upped my price,” he called out as Jim turned away.

“What?”

“Two hundred quid, a date. In advance.”

“You must be joking,” Jim asked.

“Hey, you saw us together. I’m making progress.” John lied. “Trust me, I’m worth it.”

Jim reached into his wallet and gave John two hundred pounds. “I’m not a patient man,” he said to John before walking away.

“Stupid git.” John muttered loud enough for Jim to hear as he made his way to class.

* * *

The next day during gym, Greg and Molly cornered John while he was alone.

“We know what you’re trying to do.” Greg said. “With Sherlock Holmes.”

Shit, thought John. They were going to rat him out. Sherlock would never speak to him if he thought Jim was why John wanted to go out with him. The money wasn’t an issue, he hoped. He would explain that part to Sherlock when necessary. Still, he didn’t want these two to ruin what small chance he had.

“Is that right,” He threatened. “What are you going to do about it?”

“Help you,” Molly squeaked out.

John raised an eyebrow at them. “Why? Are you two friends with Jim?”

Greg and Molly both shook their heads. “No, you see Greg here, is in love with Irene. We set this whole thing up so he could go out with her. Moriarty is just a pawn.”

John stared at them a moment, then nodded in understanding. “So, you two are going to help me tame the wild beast?” he asked.

Greg smiled, “absolutely.”

“Now, how about this,” Molly offered, “Friday night, Carl Powers is having a party. It’s the perfect opportunity.”

“Opportunity for what?” said John.

“For you to take out Sherlock.”

John shrugged. “I’ll think about,” he said casually.

Molly noticed he had answered to casually. She also noticed that he was smiling to himself while was thinking about, and talking about for that matter, Sherlock. It was then she realized that John wasn’t doing this for the money, but because he actually liked Sherlock. This was going to be easier than they thought.

* * *

Irene and Greg were sitting in the library having another French tutoring session, where they incidentally, never study French. Today, they are discussing their favorite detective stories, since Irene seems to like them. Greg decides to mention Sherlock and get some information.

“So, what does he like?’ Greg ventures.

“What do you mean?” she asks.

“Well, does he have a type? Favorite things, like food, music?”

Irene thinks about it for a moment. “I’ve lived with him and Mycroft for about four years, but I don’t really know,” she says a little ashamedly. “All he does is read chemistry textbooks and run weird experiments in his room, which he calls The Lab. He doesn’t do things fun like normal people. He rarely eats and when he does it’s usually Chinese food.”

“That’s it?” How can someone be so weird yet basic at the same time, he thinks.

“Oh, and he only listens to classical music.” she’s says it as a finality.

Just then, Jim saunters over to their desk. “Hey Irene,” he interrupts. “You going to Carl Powers’ party this Friday?”

“Um, I don’t know maybe. Actually, I’m a little busy right-”

“Well, I hope you do go because it won’t be fun without you.” He brushes the back of his hand down her arm. “You know, I saw Sherlock already leave for the day. Do you need a ride home?”

“Oh, yeah I guess so.” She didn’t want to say yes, but she did need a ride. She would hate to have to ask Mycroft to send a car. Turning over to Greg, she smiled weakly at him, “I’ll see you later, maybe at Carl‘s party?”

Greg smiled at her, “Yeah I‘ll be there. See you later.” He watched as Jim put his arm around her, glaring at Greg while they walked away.

* * *

John was sitting by himself at lunch poking around his chicken when Molly and Greg came by and sat with him. He didn’t know them that well, but if they were going to help him get Sherlock, than by all means they could be his new best friends. He leaned back in his chair and put his hands behind his head. “Okay, so what’ve you got for me?” he asked.

Greg opened his mouth to answer but Molly spoke first. “I bet that’s better cooked, isn’t it?” she said laughing to herself, pointing at John’s lunch.

Both John and Greg gave her a look of confusion. “Right, well anyway,” Greg said still side-staring at Molly, “here’s what I’ve found out. He likes Chinese food, chemistry, and classical music.”

John raised his eyebrows. “And?”

“Erm, well that’s it actually.”

“That’s it?” John was confused. “So I’m supposed to buy him some dumplings, listen to Mozart, and remember the periodic table to get him to like me?”

“Have you ever been to _The Hollow_?” Molly asked.

John frowned. “That artsy coffee house?”

“Yes that’s it.” she nodded. “I spoke to Victor and he said that Sherlock’s playing there tonight.”

“You’ve been talking to Victor a lot lately, haven’t you?” Greg asked her smirking.

She blushed and then changed the subject. “You should go, John. It would be a great opportunity for some alone time with him.” Molly gave him a knowing smile.

John thought about. He had been to _The Hollow_ once months ago. It wasn’t his favorite place, but if he could get alone time with Sherlock, he would do anything. “Okay,” he nodded. “I’ll go.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yikes! Sorry it's been a few days. Here's a few chapters to make up for it!

 

_Why, there's a wench! Come on, and kiss me, Kate._

_\- Petruchio; Act V, Scene II_

Walking into The Hollow later that evening, John was instantly met with the smell of coffee beans and cigarette smoke. He hated it here. It’s atmosphere was so dark and all the customers were moody. He could see why Sherlock would like it. John looked around for the familiar head of dark curls but couldn’t see him anywhere. There was a small Asian girl on stage reading some haikus that no one really seemed to be paying any attention to.  

John made his way over to the coffee counter to order something. He would have to wait to find Sherlock. He wondered what Sherlock would be playing here tonight. Would he play the guitar, John thought. But Greg did say he liked classical music. John spotted a keyboard on stage. Maybe he plays the piano, he guessed. Looking at the menu, John sighed. Everything on it was fancy and intricate. “Just a tea, please. With milk,” he added quickly.

“John Watson?” said the barista. “Never thought I’d see you in a place like this. How‘ve you been?”

John looked up and was surprised. It was his friend from his previous school, Bill. Immediately he felt guilty. He hadn’t spoken to him, or anyone for that matter, since he transferred.

“Bill! It’s good to see you.” John evaded his question. “I didn’t know you worked here.”

“Yeah, well its extra cash,” Bill said shrugging. “You know we all miss you at school, why don’t you ever come by?”

Before John could answer, a rush of applause broke as the girl finished reading her haikus and was pushed off stage. The MC took to the microphone. “Okay everyone, lets give Soo Lin another round of applause.” He clapped weakly along with everyone again.

Seeing that Bill was busy helping another customer, John took the opportunity to slink away and sit on a nearby stool. The MC continued, “Now, let’s give it up for our final act of the night,” he paused to look at his roster, “Sherlock.”

John sat up to get a better look as Sherlock walked on the small stage, carrying of all things, a violin. He dragged a small stool on stage with him and sat. John could see him take a deep breath, then he closed his eyes, placed his bow on the strings and began to play.

For a moment, John’s heart stopped. He watched Sherlock sway with his music, keeping his eyes tightly closed but never missing a note. John was sure his heart began beating again in rhythm with his song. He closed his eyes and just listened to it. It was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. He also shifted on his stool because it was the most erotic thing he’s ever seen. John wasn’t sure how long it lasted but felt disappointed as the music stopped. Everyone stood and applauded. John’s heart stopped a second time as he saw Sherlock take a small bow and look, directly at him.

* * *

John held Sherlock’s gaze for as long as possible before the latter broke it and ran off stage. He appeared minutes later in front of John, holding a violin case and a hot cup of coffee, looking annoyed. John’s eyes raked over Sherlock, his eyes lingering on the pale skin of his neck that John just wanted to reach out and touch. _Oh god_ , he thought, _I’m pathetic._

Sherlock sighed. “If you’ve come to ask me out again, I'll ask you to get it over with.”

“Why,” John smirked, “are you going to change your answer?”

John saw him blush and smiled, wishing he could make Sherlock blush more often. It was the second best thing he saw that night.

Frowning, Sherlock asked, “are you always this frustrating?”

“Are you always this charismatic?” he laughed. “How is it I frustrate you, exactly?” John asked with a flirtatious grin.

 _Sexually_ , Sherlock thought, _and in every possible way_. But he didn’t answer that. He couldn’t answer that. So instead he just stared into John’s eyes, while he did the same, until John asked, “Come to Carl’s party with me?”

Annoyed at John for ruining the moment, Sherlock rolled his eyes and headed for the exit. “You never give up do you?”

“Was that a yes?”

“No,” Sherlock said smiling to himself.

“So, was that a no?”

Sherlock didn't pause as he answered, pushing the door open. “No.”

“I’ll pick you up at nine-thirty then,” John called out, watching as Sherlock waved a hand at him while he walked out the door. 

* * *

On Friday night, Irene and her friend Kate were trying to sneak out of the house to go to Carl Power’s party. Mycroft was in his chair sipping tea, and Sherlock in his thinking pose and a bathrobe on the couch, both with their backs to the door. Tip-toeing quietly, they almost made it, until Mycroft called out, “Where are you going?”

Irene sighed, “To a party, Mycroft.”

He set his tea down carefully. “And is Sherlock going to this party?”

The three of them glanced at Sherlock on the couch as he answered, “Umm, no.”

“If Sherlock’s not going, then you’re not going,” Mycroft nodded firmly.

Irene glared, but she knew not to fight with Mycroft. She would never win. So she stormed over to Sherlock, hitting him with her purse. “Why can’t you just be normal?” she shouted at him.

Sitting up from his thinking pose, Sherlock asked, “define normal?”

“Dates are normal. Parties are normal. You’re. Not. Normal.” She punctuated her last three words with more hits with her purse.

“Oh please,” Sherlock scoffed, “parties are just another way for all the idiots of the world to get together over alcohol and complain about their pathetic-”

“Boring, excuse of a life.” Irene and Kate finished for him. “Yes, we know.” Irene dropped to the floor, eye level with Sherlock. “Can you just once, not act like a complete freak and come to the party tonight? Please? Please do this for me?”

Before Sherlock could answer, the doorbell rang. The housekeeper walked in a moment later with a look of surprise on her face. “A mister John Watson, for you Sherlock sir.”

John stepped into the sitting room, becoming nervous at the confused look everyine seemed to have. “Um, hello,” he said, trying to sound confidant.

Sherlock stood up from the couch, smoothing the wrinkles from his clothes. “What are you doing here?” He ran a hand through his hair to, suddenly aware of how he looked.

“Um, we did say nine-thirty, right? For the party?” he looked at his watch. “Well, sorry if I’m a little early.”

Irene, Kate, and Mycroft were still looking between the two of them with surprise, as Sherlock sighed in defeat. “Fine, wait here. I’ll go change.” Irene and Kate squealed in delight.

“We’ll be in the car!” Irene shouted as Sherlock stormed upstairs to his room, leaving John alone with Mycroft, much to the latter’s delight.

Mycroft sat back in his chair with his tea, before addressing John. “Have a seat, Mister Watson.”

John sat timidly on the edge of he couch. He was nervous, now that he was actually going out with Sherlock, and Mycroft was making him terribly uncomfortable.

“John, is it?” Mycroft asked slyly. “How is your shoulder feeling?”

“How do-”

“I wonder,” he continued over John, “do you plan on spending much time with my little brother?”

John wasn’t sure why he was asking but answered none the less. “I hope so. But I really don’t see how that’s any of your-”

Mycroft cut him off again. “It’s just that I do so worry about him. Constantly. I was hoping you might be able to provide me with some…information.”

“Information?” John asked.

“Nothing too personal, or that you’d be uncomfortable with. Just where he goes, who he’s with, that sort of thing.”

John tensed up in anger. “No.”

Mycroft stood to challenge him. “No? And what if I were to offer you a meaningful some of money to do so?”

John glared at him. He was getting really tired of people offering money to him to spend time with Sherlock. He shook his head and walked away towards the door. “Don’t bother,” he said over his shoulder.

“Oh? I wonder what it was that made James Moriarty’s offer so enticing to you?” John stopped in his tracks.

His jaw dropped, John turned slowly to face Mycroft. “How do you-” Before he could ask, Sherlock came thundering down the stairs, his long coat on, fixing his scarf around his neck. “Let’s go, John,” he said without even stopping towards the door.

Mycroft smiled as John followed Sherlock out, fear written on his face. “Have a good evening, Mister Watson” he called out as they met Irene and Kate in the car.

 


	8. Chapter 8

_Why, he's a devil, a devil, a very fiend._

_\- Gremio; Act III Scene II_

When the four of them arrived at the party, they split off. Jim saw Irene and made a beeline straight for her. Being drunk already, he put his arm around her and slurred, “Hey sweetie. Some of us are playing drinking games in the backyard. Want to join?” 

Before she could protest, Kate answered yes for her and was pushing them through the house. Irene wanted to find Greg. He had said he was coming and she was looking forward to seeing him. But with Jim’s arm tight around her, it would have to wait.

* * *

 

When Greg and Molly got to the party, she was still assuring him that he looked fine. “Honestly, she sees you in those wretched uniforms we wear, I think she’ll like what you have on. So for god’s sake, stop asking me!”

“Sorry Molly, I’m just nervous.” He was straining his neck, trying to spot Irene. “Do you see her around?”

Molly was looking around as well, but saw someone else that caught her interest. “No, but I’ll catch up with you in a bit.” Greg turned to answer but she had already disappeared. Shrugging to himself, he went to grab a drink and hoped to find Irene.

* * *

Sherlock was walking around the house, not enjoying anything but the feel of John next to him. They were making their way downstairs when some drunk girl threw herself at them. He managed to dodge out of the way, but he didn’t notice she had blocked John and kept walking. Sherlock made it through the kitchen before he realized John wasn’t around and remembered why he didn’t want to come.

“Hello freak.”

Sherlock turned around. “Ah, Sally Donavon. Pleasure seeing you here. Might I guess Anderson is off with his other girlfriend and that’s why you‘re here drinking vodka and insulting me?

She glared and gulped her drink down. “What are you doing here?”

“I was invited.”

Laughing, she asked, “by who?”

“John Watson,” he answered proudly.

“Oh please!” Sally was clutching her side from laughing so hard. “What did you follow him here. John Watson doesn’t talk to anyone, let alone you. You’re pathetic.” Walking away to get another drink she called back, “What would he want to do with you?”

Sally was right, he thought. John had already abandoned him once they got here. Why did he ask him out? It had been the one thing bothering Sherlock since John had first asked spoke to him. Sally had just confirmed what Sherlock thought: it was all some cruel joke. To push the thoughts away, he grabbed two shots from a tray nearby and gulped them down. Then he made his way through the party to find more drinks.

* * *

Greg needed to get some air. It was too crowded in the house and he had lost Molly somewhere inside. He looked and saw Jim and Irene, his arm around her possessively. Greg tried not to let it bother him, but was crushed as he saw Jim duck down and kiss Irene passionately. He turned around and walked back into the house.

Irene shoved Jim off of her. “What do you think you’re doing?” she shrieked.

“What’s the problem?” he asked angrily.

“You’re drunk.”

“So?” He tried to kiss her again.

“Stop it!” She pushed him off again. “I’m going home.”

“Oh come on, don’t be upset.” Jim tried to follow but swayed from the alcohol.

“Talk to me when you’re not being an idiot,” she shouted before storming inside.

Irene looked inside trying to find Sherlock so they could leave, but didn’t see him or John. She did find Greg though and smiled as she made her way to him.

“Hi, Greg. Are you having fun?”

He didn’t look her in the eyes. “No, not really.”

“Oh,” she said quietly. “Me either. I tried to find Sherlock, but I didn’t see him. Do you think you could give me a ride home?”

As hurt as he was he couldn’t bring himself to say no. “Sure, no problem.” He text Molly that he was leaving and to let him know if she needed a ride. He and Irene walked to his car and rode in silence.

When they arrived, Greg parked his car and built his courage to finally say something.

“I don’t think I should tutor you anymore.”

“What?” Irene was stunned. “Why not?”

“Look, I understand if you don’t like me, but you don’t have to pretend that you do.” He sighed. “ That just makes it worse.”

“Who said I was pretending?” She leaned in closer to him. “I like you, Greg. A lot.”

He finally looked her in the eyes. “Really?”

Instead of answering, she reached over to grab his face and kissed him hard. They kissed for a few minutes before she finally pulled away. “Yes, really.” She kissed him again lightly one more time before getting out of the car. “Thank you for the ride.”

Greg watched as she went inside the house, a huge grin on his face as he drove home.

* * *

John searched all over the party for Sherlock in vain. I should never have brought him here, he thought. He’ll hate me for it. John was making his way through the house, shoving people out of the way, when he looked into the dining room and saw it.

Sherlock Holmes. Drunk. Dancing on the dining room table to _Thriller_.

Oh Dear God. John pushed at the crowd of people watching Sherlock to tug at his pant leg, trying to get his attention. “Sherlock, what in the bloody hell are you doing?”

“Dancing John, what does is look like?” He clapped, not missing a move.

“Yes, I can see that.” John had to admit, he was dancing rather well for being smashed out of his mind. “Why don’t you come down and we can get you home?”

Sherlock stopped dancing for a moment to look down at John. “No.” And then he started doing the moonwalk. Pinching the bridge of his nose, John sighed. He felt a hand on his shoulder.

“How Johnny?” Jim sounded far too delighted for John’s liking. “How did you get him to act so, so normal? I must say, you’re definately giving me my money’s worth?”

“Piss off,” John growled at him. There was a loud thud as Sherlock hit his head on the chandelier, and tumbled down into John’s arms.

“Jesus, Sherlock are you okay?” he asked standing him up.

Sherlock pushed John off him. “Of course, I’m fine. I‘m always fine.” He swayed and almost fell to the ground again.

“You are the opposite of fine.” John put one of Sherlock’s arms over his shoulder and one of his own around his waist, hoisting him up.

“Why are you doing this?” John could smell at least eight different types of alcohol on his breath.

“Doing what?”

“Caring. About me.” Sherlock rested his head on John’s shoulder as they walked. “Why would you?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” John asked back. Sherlock didn’t say anymore.

He walked them outside and sat Sherlock in the car, crouching down next to him. Sherlock closed his eyes and rolled his head back. Having experience with drunk people, John knew this was not a good thing.

Gently grabbing Sherlock’s face, he tapped his cheek. “Come on, Sherlock. Keep your eyes open for me, okay? Can you do that? Please?”

Sherlock reached up and held onto John’s wrist. He felt dizzy and sick, but calm and safe with John. “I like your eyes,” he slurred out. "They're very blue."

John reached with his other hand to brush a curl off his sweaty forehead. “Thank you,” he whispered out. Sherlock closed his eyes and leaned forward. John’s heart thudded as he thought Sherlock was about to kiss him. Instead he pushed John to the side, throwing up all over his shoes.

They drove back to Sherlock’s house in silence, after John had managed to clean them up. “You don’t have to walk me up.” said Sherlock. “It might wake Mycroft and I’d hate for him to deduce that I vomited all over you trainers.”

“You don’t seem the type to get embarrassed.”

“I’m not embarrassed, I’d just hate for him to have this over me.” he said sternly. “Besides, don’t pretend you know anything about me.”

“I’m getting there.” John smiled at him.

“Please, the only thing people know about me is that I’m a freak and that I’m ‘not normal’.” he made quotations in the air to express this.

“Yes, well I don’t think you’re a freak.” He turned to look Sherlock in the eyes. “I happen to think normal is boring anyway.”

“And you’re not as boring as I thought you were.”

John watched as Sherlock closed his eyes and learned towards him again. His lips pursed, John was sure that he was going for a kiss this time. But guilt suddenly flooded him. Guilt, for taking Jim’s money, guilt for lying about it to Sherlock, and guilt that he was drunk. As much as John wanted to kiss him, he knew it wasn’t the right thing to do. So he cleared his throat and started the car.

“So I guess I’ll see you on Monday.” he said solemnly.

Sherlock didn’t say anything back. He just rushed out of the car, slamming the door behind him. 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I highly suggest listening to this song before you read this, so you know what's it's supposed to sound like. 
> 
> http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r28-9kh4bhA

_O this woodcock, what an ass it is!_

_\- Grumio; Act I, Scene II_

In English on Monday, it took every fiber of his being for Sherlock to not look back at John in class. He didn’t want to think about John. How John didn’t want to kiss him, how he probably only wants to mock him. He could feel John’s eyes burning through the back of his head. No, Sherlock thought. I won’t give him the satisfaction. He decided the best way to stop thinking about John was to actually pay attention to Mr Hope, who was in the middle of reading a poem.

“…Nor my five wits nor my five senses, can dissuade one foolish heart from serving thee, who leaves unsway’d the likeness of a man, thy proud hearts slave and vessel wretch to be: only my plague thus far I count my gain, that she that makes me sin awards me pain.” Mr Hope finished the reading and put down his book.

“Now, I know some of you,” he shot a look to Sherlock, “find Shakespeare to be boring, but I want you all to write your own version of this poem.”

Sherlock raised his hand to ask a question. Looking up, Mr Hope sighed, “Yes, mister I-have-an-opinion-about everything?”

“Do you want this in iambic pentameter?”

“What?”

“I asked if you wanted -”

“I heard what you said.” he said sternly. “Are you mocking me, Holmes?”

“No, I just-”

“Out!” Mr Hope shouted. “Get out of my class!”

Sherlock gathered all his belongings and quickly left the room, trying his best not to look at John, whose eyes followed him out the door.

* * *

Greg and John sat at lunch waiting for Molly, who said she had information. They didn’t know each other too well, and the silence was making John uncomfortable. “So, how are things going with Irene?”

“Well, uh,” Greg was smiling shyly. “She kissed me, so pretty good I guess.”

“That’s great!” he clapped him on the shoulder, then sighed. At least it’s going well for someone, he thought.

Molly scrambled over to their table, looking a little ruffled. “Sorry, I lost track of time,” she said smoothing her hair down.

“Jeez, what happened to you?” Greg asked.

Ignoring his question, she turned to John. “So, I was talking to Victor-”

“Ooooh” Greg chided.

Molly gave him a look that shut him up. “As I was saying, I was talking to Victor and he said, that um,” she bit her lip. “Sherlock said he hates you with the fire of a thousand suns.”

Groaning, John slammed his head on the table. “Ugh, it’s hopeless. I’m hopeless. I don’t blame him you know, he should hate me.” He then proceeded to tell them about what happened at the party, and then in car.

“Cheer up mate.” Greg patted him lightly on the back. “We’ll think of something. He can’t hate you forever.”

“He’s right.” Molly nodded. “He’s just embarrassed that’s all. Sacrifice yourself on the alter of dignity and even the score.”

Just then, John sat up as he got an idea. He ran out of the cafeteria in search of Henry Knight, the school bandleader. Finally, he saw him at his locker and ran over. “Henry mate, I need a favor.” John explained his plan to Henry, who looked apprehensive.

“I don’t know, John. I might get in a lot of trouble doing that. It‘s gonna cost you.”

John reached into his wallet and pulled out fifty pounds. “Would this convince you to help me out?”

Henry grabbed the money with a smile, putting it in his pocket. “When and where?”

* * *

  
“Will you please, just stop complaining and help me look.” Victor pleaded with Sherlock.

Molly had asked him to have Sherlock at the rugby field exactly twenty minutes after school. So, as a good friend, he coerced Sherlock into coming to help him find his keys he didn’t lose. He fully expected him to grumble about it the whole time, which he did.

“Honestly Victor, it’s not my fault you’re irresponsible. I shouldn‘t have to help you.” Sherlock said sitting on a bench, at the edge of the field, his arms crossed in defiance. Of course he knew Victor didn’t actually lose his keys, but he was curious as to why he had wanted him here so badly, so he followed. He didn’t notice anything too suspicious. The rugby team was practicing on the field, as well as Henry Knight and the marching band, but that was typical after school. What he did find odd was the school choir sitting in the bleachers, and Mike Stamford with his guitar, close by.

“You aren’t really helping anyway.” Victor’s phone chimed from his pocket and he read the message.

_Showtime - molly h._

**Here & ready! - Vic T.**

Sherlock stood up to leave, annoyed that he was dragged here for no reason. “Victor, why exactly did you need me-”

His question went ignored as the marching band began to play, followed by Mike Stamford joining in. He knew this was odd because he could tell that though they were playing well, it wasn’t a song they knew were familiar with. It was stranger to Sherlock that Stamford was joining in, because he knew he wasn’t part of the marching band.

Suddenly the choir sitting in the bleachers starting singing, followed by another voice. A familiar voice. Sherlock stopped breathing for a moment and turned around. John, with a microphone in his hand, was standing at the top of the bleachers, his eyes closed and hips swinging.

_“I’m gonna do all the things for you, a guy wants a man to do, Oh baby- I’ll sacrifice for you, I’ll even do wrong for you- Oh baby”_

Sherlock was stunned. _Oh. My. God_ , he thought. _John is singing. He’s singing for me_. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t do anything but gape and stare as John swung his hips back and forth, pointing and gesturing at Sherlock as he sang.

  
 _“Every minute, Every hour,- I’m gonna shower- You with love and affection- Look out it’s comin’ in your direction”_

  
He watched as John hopped on the hand railing and slid down, landing on his feet gracefully.

_“And I’m- I’m gonna make you love me- Ooh yes I will- yes I will- I’m gonna make you love me- Yes I will- Yes I will”_

John was walking down the bleachers as he sang, getting closer and closer. His breathing coming in stutters, Sherlock had to take off his scarf, feeling far too hot. It was erotic. Entranced by John’s hips, his eyes, his mouth, Sherlock decided then and there, I want all of him.

_“And I’m gonna use every trick in the book- I’ll try my best to get you hooked, Hey baby- Every night, every day- I’m gonna get ya- I’m gonna get ya- Look cuz, Im gonna get ya- I’m gonna make you love me- yes I will- Yes I will-”_

Two security officers showed up, causing John to stop and run. The band continued on as he zigzagged up and down the bleachers avoiding getting caught. He started running down onto the field to get away, but ran up to Sherlock and whispered in his ear, “Angelo’s, seven o’clock.”

And with a quick kiss to Sherlock’s cheek, he ran towards the parking lot, out of sight.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so two things:
> 
> 1) I went with the second half of Shakespeare's Sonnet #141 because I felt it fit more with this line "But my five wits nor my five senses can Dissuade one foolish heart from serving thee."
> 
> 2) I didn't want to use Let Me Love you like in the film because (a) I didn't want to copy everything from the film and (b) I wanted to honor Martin Freeman's love of Motown. 
> 
> And I had a really hard time picking a song.


	10. Chapter 10

  
_I am content you shall entreat me stay;_   
_But yet not stay, entreat me how you can._   


_\- Petruchio; Act III, Scene II_

John sat in his booth at Angelo’s feeling like a fool. He had been waiting for Sherlock almost an hour, and was certain now he wasn’t going to show up. John didn’t blame him though. Even though he made an ass out of himself singing to Sherlock, he at least hoped the boy would have shown, if not only to tell John to piss off. The bell above the door jingled and John looked up to see the tall mop of curls and scarf. He saw Sherlock glance around the restaurant, and when he caught sight of John, he smiled and slid into the booth gracefully.

“Sorry I’m late. You wouldn’t believe how hard it was to find a cab?”

“Oh, were you late?” John tried for nonchalant.

Sherlock gave him a look. “No doubt you thought I wouldn’t show. You’ve been waiting almost an hour, already on your third breadbasket. If I hadn’t arrived just now you would have left in the next five minutes.”

John gave him a beaming smile. “I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of seeing you do that.” Sherlock blushed and the waiter came by to take their orders. John ordered raviolis and when Sherlock declined to eat, he received a look from John and ordered a lasagna.

“So, tell me more about you. I want to know everything.” John asked. “What do you like?”

“Murders.” Sherlock realized that wasn’t the best answer when several tables glanced over at him and John gave an amused smirk. “That is to say, I like solving murders, and mysteries. I want to solve crimes. I plan to be a detective.”

“So you want to work for the police?” John asked.

“God no. I couldn’t think of anything more boring. I’d want to be able to choose which crimes, only the really interesting ones. When they‘d really need me. ”

“So, kind of like a consulting detective?”

“Yes! Yes, exactly!” Sherlock smiled at John as if he was the most amazing person in the room. And if he was being honest with himself, he was. “And what about you,” Sherlock asked. If it was anyone else, he wouldn’t care. But it was John. He wanted to know everything about John, inside and out. His likes, dislikes, his plans for the future and how well they fit with his own.

John shrugged. “Well, I’d like to be a doctor, which you’ve already deduced. I like being able to help people. I want to be able to save lives and make a difference. I had wanted to join the military like my father, but I can’t because, well-” he gestured to his injured shoulder.

Hesitating for a moment, Sherlock asked, “What happened, John?”

John just smiled at him. “Another day.” Sherlock didn’t press any further.

They talked together for what seemed like hours. John about his hobbies and hopes for the future. Sherlock about his experiments and deductions. He would point at people through the window for John and deduce their life. Each time John would call him brilliant and amazing. And Sherlock would fall a little more in love with him. He didn’t know that John was doing the same thing.

When it got late John offered to walk Sherlock home, which he accepted. While they walked, Sherlock got the courage to brush his hand against John’s. John took his hand and laced their fingers together. They continued to walk, with huge smiles on their faces.

John walked Sherlock all the way to his front door, never letting go of his hand. Sherlock squeezed it and asked, “Tell me something else about yourself.”

“I like crap telly.”

Despite himself Sherlock laughed. “No, I mean, tell me something no one knows.”

“Okay,” John took a step closer to him. “I think you’re wonderful. I think no one knows the real you and I pity them, because they’ll never get to see how truly perfect you are.”

Before Sherlock could respond, John reached up and kissed him. It was gentle and chaste, a small amount of pressure, just to let Sherlock know he wanted him. He pulled back and looked him in the eyes.

Sherlock didn’t say anything, he just wrapped his arms around John’s shoulders and kissed him again. John put his hands around Sherlock’s waist and pulled him forward, deepening the embrace. They kissed as long as they could before the need for air. And then they kissed again.

John finally ended the kiss and took Sherlock’s hand into his own pressing their foreheads together. “Come to prom with me?” he asked.

“I’d rather jump off a building than go to prom.”

“Come on, it’ll be fun. We wear nice suits, you can deduce all the idiots for me, I’ll even request _Thriller_ for you.”

“Why are you pushing this?” Sherlock groaned.

“I’m not pushing it. I just thought it would be something fun we could do.”

“I don’t know. I’ll think about it.”

“Okay.” John brought a kiss to his hand as Sherlock opened the door. “Goodnight.”

Sherlock gave him a quick kiss on the lips. “Goodnight.”

* * *

  
“Bonjour, où est la bibliothèque?”

Irene sighed. Since studying her French with Greg, she had gotten much better. But this isn’t the conversation she wanted to be having. She wanted Greg to ask her to prom but he hadn’t yet.

“Greg, je t'aime vraiment mais je commence à s'impatienter.” She scolded.

He looked confused as he flipped through their textbook for a translation. “Um, I don’t -”  
“Allez-vous me bal ou demandez pas?”

Greg gave up on trying to translate. He closed his book and sighed. Nervously he reached for Irene’s hand; she didn’t pull away.

“Look Irene,’ he swallowed nervously. “I was wondering if maybe, that is if you don’t have a date already, unless you don’t want to-”

Oh for God’s sake, she thought. Interrupting him, she asked, “Greg, would you like to go to prom with me?”

Stopping mid sentence, he smiled and nodded vigorously.

“Good, then it’s settled. Pick me up around eight?”

“Yes, that sounds good.”

“Good.” She smiled and gave him a peck on the cheek as she left. “Now, if you excuse me, I have some shopping to do.”

On her way out of the library, Irene ran right into Jim. “Oh, sorry Jim I didn’t see you there.”

“No problem babe.” he tried to touch her hair, but she dodged out of the way. “See you at prom?” he asked.

“Yeah sure, see you there.” she called back as she scurried away. What a creep, she thought as she skipped home, excited about prom with Greg.

* * *

Irene arrived home after scouring every store possible for the perfect dress. She found it in a simple nude colored floor length gown that clung onto her every curve. She was on her way to her room to hang it up when she spotted Sherlock in his room, playing morose music on his violin.

“What are you doing?” she asked stepping in. She was careful not to step on any glass beakers or music sheets scattered on the floor.

“Thinking.” he replied, placing his violin back in it’s case. he pointed to the garment back in her hands. “What’s that?”

“My prom dress.”

“Oh please, you’re not actually going to that are you?”

“You’re just jealous because no one’s asked you.” Irene tried not to sound petulant but failed. She hated it when Sherlock scoffed at things she enjoyed.

“John asked me.” he said while sitting on his bed, crossing his arms.

“John? John Watson?” She couldn’t hide her surprise. _“Why?”_

“Exactly.” he answered sadly. “I don’t know why. I’ve always been able to keep myself distant. Divorce myself from feelings. But with John I…I just…-”

Irene sat down next to him carefully. “You like him.”

Sherlock stood up, grabbing at his hair, pacing. “I just don’t know why he likes me,” he groaned. "Logically, he shouldn't. No one else does."

“Why does everything have to be so complicated with you? Maybe he just likes you, plain and simple. Don‘t think about it. Just enjoy it.” He threw himself on the bed with a sigh.

“Look,” she said, “I don’t know him, but he must be something he can tolerate you for more than five minutes. Just go to prom with him. Have fun. You deserve to be happy, Sherlock. Everybody does.” She patted him on the shoulder and left him alone to think.


	11. Chapter 11

 

_I warrant him, Petruchio is Kated._

_\- Gremio; Act III, Scene II_

Greg steeled himself a deep breath and knocked nervously on Irene’s front door, bracing himself. When it opened to reveal a tall, ginger man in a three-piece suit, he was suddenly at a loss for words. This must be the elusive Mycroft, he thought. As frightening as Sherlock was, he was nothing compared to the calm man before Greg, who was stammering from the mere quick of an eyebrow. “Can I help you?” he drawled.

“Uh, y-yes. Hello sir, I’m Greg. I’m here to pick Irene up for the prom.”

Mycroft frowned in confusion. “Prom?” he asked. Irene had never asked permission to go to prom. If Sherlock didn’t go to these functions, than neither did she. She was aware of the rules. As his thoughts raced through his mind, he had a pensive look on his face that made Greg nervous.

“Uh, sir?” Greg asked, lightly waving his hand in front of Mycroft’s face.

This snapped Mycroft from his thoughts. “Forgive me. Won’t you please come inside, I’m sure Irene will be just a moment.”

Just then Irene waltzed down the stairs, the train of her gown flowing behind her. She caught sight of Greg and bounded down to embrace him, a smile on her face. “Hello,” she said eyeing his tux and slicked back hair. “You look incredibly handsome.”  
“Wow,” Greg swallowed. Irene looked stunning. It was a wonder to greg that he was actually talking her to prom, but he planned to enjoy every second of it. “You look amazing.” She smiled and looked up at him through her eyelashes.

Mycroft cleared his throat to interrupt the moment. “Irene, you know the rules,” he stated. “If Sherlock doesn’t go, you don’t go.”

“About that,” she turned to address Greg. “I hope you don’t mind, but he’ll be riding with us to prom.”

“ _Sherlock_?” both Mycroft and Greg asked in shock.

The man in question strode quickly down the stairs in a black suit and tight purple shirt underneath. “Let’s go,” he called as he walked out the front door. Irene grabbed Greg’s hand and followed him. “Goodnight Mycroft. Shouldn’t be too late. Don’t wait up.”

Greg turned quickly with a wave and shouted, “Nice to have met you.” Mycroft could do nothing but stare in (what could have possibly been the first time ever) shock as he watched Sherlock, Irene and her date climb into one of their luxury cars. Catching a small smile on Sherlock’s face as he slid inside the car, Mycroft knew he was going to meet John Watson. He prayed that if Sherlock had to discover the truth about John, it didn’t happen tonight. He wanted Sherlock to have just one night of happiness. But Mycroft never was a man to have his prayers answered.

* * *

John was waiting in front of ballroom entrance, staring at the poorly made banner above. It read, D _oyle Academy Presents: A Night of Star-Crossed Lovers._ How appropriate, he thought. Though he had only known Sherlock a short time, John knew what he felt for him. Sherlock was brilliant and gorgeous and (even though it was never on purpose) funny. John felt he could never be apart from the mad man. So, when Sherlock had called John to let him know that he would meet him at prom, John decided that tonight would be the night he would tell him.

Sherlock walked up the stairwell leading up to the ballroom, taking in the mass of people and tacky decorations. He had never been one for social functions, but Irene had convinced him to come and he desperately wanted to see John. He couldn’t name what he felt for him, but he knew that it was special. Every moment he wasn’t with him, Sherlock thought of John. Lately it seemed as if his heart beat to the name _john john john_. Though he was apprehensive at first, he decided that he was just going to let go of his inhibitions, and embrace the fact that John wanted him and that he felt the same. When he reached the ballroom entrance, he caught sight of John leaning against the banister looking both casual and nervous at the same time. Turning his head, he saw Sherlock and a huge grin took up his face.

“Hello.” They both said at the same time.

John looked Sherlock up and down, staring at his skin fitting suit and shirt. He licked his licked his lips unconsciously before remembering himself. “You look very nice.”

“Thank you.” Sherlock said as he took in the way John’s navy suit made his eyes pop and his hair glow gold. “You as well. Where did you get a suit last minute?”

“Oh, just something I had lying around.” John shrugged.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small rose. “For you” he said presenting to Sherlock, who took it with a raised eyebrow. “Too much?” he asked. “I thought a corsage might be a bit silly, seeing as-”

“It’s perfect.” Sherlock stated abruptly, placing the flower in his front suit pocket. He kissed John lightly on the cheek.

“Good.” John blushed bright red, smiling. He took Sherlock’s hand in his and lead him into the ballroom. It was already crowded with dancing couples and tables. The DJ was setting up as the small band on stage took a break. “Shall we?” John asked gesturing to the dance floor.

Sherlock shrugged. “Lead the way.”

They made their way through the crowd and started dancing slowly, before becoming familiar with each other’s steps. As the songs continued, they danced circles around each other, holding hands and hopping around. John would laugh when Sherlock would try to whisper deductions about their peers, and Sherlock would laugh when John bit his bottom lip trying to concentrate on his moves. Eventually, after what seemed like hours, they had to stop, when the DJ announced their would be a short break.

“Thirsty?” John asked. Sherlock nodded and John went to grab them some punch. while he waited for a turn at the punchbowl, he looked around and saw Greg and Irene dancing closely. He smiled, happy that it worked out for them. He considered Greg after all that he and Molly had done to help him. John got their punch and made his way to Sherlock who was sitting at a table, waiting. On his way, John caught sight of Molly, who was snogging Victor Trevor in a corner. _Well that explains that,_ he thought as he placed Sherlock’s punch in front of him. He sat down next to Sherlock as they sipped their drinks in silence, catching their breaths.

John tried to subtly roll his shoulder, which was sore after dancing for so long. He didn’t want Sherlock to notice, but of course he did. Sherlock gave him a small smile, which wasn’t one of pity but of adoration. John reached across the table and entwined their hands together. He took in a deep breath, ready for what he was about to tell Sherlock. “It was a gunshot,” he rambled out.

What?” Sherlock asked confused.

“My Mum had this co-worker that she used to bring around the house.” John continued. “His name was Bradley. My sister Harry and I weren’t stupid. We knew with our Da away she was lonely, so we knew they weren’t just friends. But before that there was always something about him I didn’t like. He would come around when Mum wasn’t home, always having an excuse as to why, and he would stare at Harry, watching her. But then Harry came out as a lesbian, and after that he stopped coming around when Mum wasn’t home.”

John took another breath, and Sherlock squeezed his hand, urging him to continue when he was ready. “One day, a few of my mates and I went to my house after our rugby match was cancelled. When I saw that Bradley’s car was in the driveway and saw Mum’s wasn’t, I ran inside and found him shoving Harry onto the couch, shouting how he was going to make her a ‘real woman.’ I pushed him off her and threw him to the floor landing punch after punch. Bill, from The Hollow, he took Harry outside while my other mate called the cops. Next thing I knew, Bradley shoved me off and shot me in the shoulder. I didn’t even know he had a gun. I blacked out and woke up in the hospital. Mum left us when I got out, she said she couldn’t handle the guilt of bringing him in our home. Harry started drinking after to cope with what had happened. I couldn’t handle all the stares and whispers at school, so I transferred out and here I am.”

Sherlock didn’t say anything when John finished. He just leaned over and kissed him, once on each cheek and then on the lips. John kissed him back, leaning their foreheads against one another. “Thank you” he whispered.

The band reappeared on stage, announcing the next song. They made their way back to the dance floor, hand in hand.

* * *

Of one thing Jim Moriarty was sure, it was that he would have Irene Adler. From the moment he saw her he knew that she had to be his. He flirted with her, and was charming when he had to be, but he was growing impatient. When that mousy Hooper girl had presented him with an opportunity to get into Irene’s pants, he took it in hopes that if Watson got lucky he would. Jim had a plan. It was to sleep with Irene on prom night. But when he arrived at prom, seeing Sherlock in John’s arms and Irene in the arms of someone else, he saw red.

* * *

Everyone continued dancing as the band announced the next song was a slow one. John moved his arms to encircle Sherlock’s waist, while he did the same, resting his cheek against the top of John’s head. They swayed against each other, both perfectly content to spend forever in that position. Forever was cut short, as John was yanked out of Sherlock’s arms by his collar.

“What the fuck Watson!” Jim growled. Everyone around had stopped dancing to watch the exchange, but the music still played. John had a desperate look in his eyes. He knew what this was about. But he couldn’t fight Jim back. He just kept praying, not in front of Sherlock, not in front of Sherlock.

Jim shoved John against one of the tables nearby, prodding him in the chest. “Why is Adler here with some loser?” Jim was shouting. “I didn’t pay you to date Sherlock so someone else can get into her pants, I paid you so that I could do her.”

And there it was, out in the open. Sherlock looked at John with a tortured expression. He was certain that if the band still wasn’t playing, that everyone would hear his heartbreak. Without saying a word, he ran towards the exit. John pushed Jim off so he could run after Sherlock, but Jim tried to hold him back, and John punched him in the face. When he swayed to catch his coposure, John ran. 

John saw him running down the stairs. “Sherlock, wait!” he yelled. When he didn’t stop, John practically flew down, grabbing him by the arm and turning him around. “Sherlock, please let me expl-”

“How much?” Sherlock asked.

“What?”

Don’t play stupid, John.” Sherlock let out a sad laugh, looking up as he willed the tears away. “I asked you how much. Fifty quid a kiss? A date? How much would he have given you if you’d got into my pants, hm? How much would it take for you to shag the freak?”

“No, no it wasn’t like that.” John grabbed Sherlock’s face in his hands. “I didn’t care about the money, I cared about-”

“Save it!” Sherlock shouted with a shove. “I certainly hope Jim got his money’s worth, because you won't be getting anything more from me. Do not talk to me, don’t even look at me again. Do you understand?”

“Sherlock, please!” In a desperate move, John tried to kiss him but Sherlock pushed him away and punched him in the jaw. _“Do not touch me,"_ he growled.

John held his jaw as Sherlock ran out of the building with tears in his eyes. Ignoring the stares of everyone nearby, John waited enough time for Sherlock to have left before making his way to his car heading home. He barely made it out of the parking lot before his own tears fell.


	12. Author's Note

Ok so I'm writing this to let everyone know that this is 100% not abandoned. I'm trying to finish it up but a certain poem that we all know is coming is really kicking my ass. I'm really stuck with it. So please be patient and thanks for reading! 


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